Stay
by Adelheide1121
Summary: She remembered like it was yesterday. The day she sold her soul to the Devil. This is a sequel to Alive. We are about to hit AU territory.
1. Chapter 1

She remembered like it was yesterday. The day she sold her soul to the Devil.

A car picked her up on a bright spring morning and whisked her off to a beautiful villa in the Italian countryside. Sean had organized everything as he always did. Her cover was simple, and her task even simpler. Gain Cesar Faison's trust, which would, over time, yield actionable intelligence for the WSB. She was there with her cover being an art appraiser there to evaluate his private collection of Renaissance art. It all began well. Cesar Faison was there waiting to show her around the delightful gardens and the cool halls filled with paintings and sculptures, the like of which even took Anna's breath away.

She was surprised to find she was actually enjoying herself. This realization resulted in self-admonishment. _This is a mission. Sean is counting on you. _

She tried to keep the conversation varied, showing off as much knowledge as she could. After a wonderful lunch on the veranda, he had continued the tour of the house, leading her to his impressive library. He walked to a bookshelf and reached to take a particular book. This caused a section of the shelf to swing outward. He motioned for her to follow him, and after a moment's hesitation, Anna followed.

She found herself in a study. His inner sanctum, so to speak. The books on the shelves in this room looked older, and many were written in languages she didn't recognize. There were several strange-looking artifacts sitting under glass domes. Maps and star charts were unfolded on a stretcher while many more books were piled on the tables and floor. She looked around the room until Faison turned to shut the door behind him.

They were now completely alone.

"Now that we are alone here in my private rooms, let's leave off the pretenses, shall we? I know you are not Karen Acker or an art appraiser, at least not by profession. You are Anna Devane, born in England, you were orphaned at age eight and spent most of your life as an unremarkable ward of you aunt and uncle until you were recruited and became an agent for the WSB. And I know that you have been sent by Director Sean Donely to get information from me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about..."

"That's alright. You can continue with the charade if you like. I know that you have been trained to commit to your cover. I would expect nothing less. And please don't let my knowledge of your true identity make you doubt your abilities. No, your performance was perfect. It's just that you have been on my radar, so to speak, for some time now."

Anna didn't know what to make of his words, so she waited for him to continue. She felt like a fly caught in a web, but she had enough sense to hold still. She worked to remain calm and keep her face impassive.

"Donely is a smart man. He has an eye for talent, and I make it my business to know who he has his eye on, and when my contacts reported that he was visiting was spending his time talent spotting more often than usual, I had to see for myself who had caught his eye. I wasn't disappointed. He was correct in choosing you. I knew eventually you would come to me or be sent. You have captured my attention, but not for the reason he thinks. His arrogance always leaves him blind. Sean Donely has no doubt spent an enormous amount of care and attention, molding you into exactly who he wants you to be. And you must have put your trust in the process. But I'm not interested in what you can be made into."

"You don't know me or what I want."

"You see, you are wrong. I think I know what you want. You want security. Stability?" A smirk passed over his face as he gestured towards the opposite side of the room.

"See that book on the desk? That is full of the names of those the WSB left behind. Pawns, rooks, and knights all sacrificed to the game. And now, finally, Donely has sent me a queen. Powerful on the board but still expendable. Only one piece truly matters, the king. This is Donely''s game, and he will do whatever it takes to keep himself out of checkmate. Has he promised to protect you? Then why are you here with me now? Why doesn't he come himself if I am so important?"

Anna was very still. She felt like a hen caught in the jaws of a very cunning fox.

"I have waited a long time to meet you, but the wait has made it that much sweeter. I am interested in _who you are_. Who is the real Anna Devane under this mask? My instinct tells me that _she_ is worth knowing. She is passionate, full of feeling. Sean has taught you to hide your emotions, but I think they are what should drive you. I think that together you and I could be a force to be reckoned with. I know that you have suffered, but you shouldn't hide from it. Perhaps along the way, we can exorcise some of the ghosts from your past." He circled around her and came to a stop behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck and his voice in her ear, and it made her feel ill.

"It's going to become tedious, you know, this game. The WSB will never be able to pay you enough to have the independence you crave or the luxuries you deserve. But I can. Rather than be a puppet, you could be in a position to live life on your own terms. A life without strings, so to speak. You could have a future of your own making, and the rewards could be yours and not just for the glory for the organization or some abstract idea of duty. Let me guess how he trained you. He kept you isolated, worked one on one with you. Kept you from forming attachments outside of him."

Anna's face remained impassive. She refused to give him the smallest hint that what he said was true.

Faison took out a cigarillo and lit it. "He's the puppetmaster. He writes the scripts and directs the marionettes, but he never lets them see the strings. Not before the play and definitely not as it comes to its climax."

Anna began to feel even more uncomfortable, but she kept her features even. "I'm self-reliant.. You want me to trade one puppeteer for another is that what you are saying?"

"No, I would never limit you in that way. I think that rules and boundaries are the death of creativity, and I think you don't need a safety net."

He thrust a piece of paper into her hands.

"Here, take it. I won't play games with you. Sean sent you here to get information from me, and I will provide it."

"What is it?"

"A letter that names some of our DVX informants here in Italy. Take this notebook and copy the information down. Consider it an act of good faith from me to you. You must promise that you will come to see me again. I enjoyed our discussion, and I hope to get to know you better. That in time you will come to see me as a friend, or at least an ally."

"Why would you sell out your own people?"

"Perhaps I want them punished, and their exposure will generate reprisals against them, and that would benefit me. Or perhaps I am rewarding them for their loyalty by providing a means of escape from the DVX. Which answer do you prefer?"

"Don't think you fool me. The DVX does nothing but rain misery on its so-called enemies, and it's trying to flood the world with it. The people who end up on with an assassin's bullet in their head don't deserve their fate."

"You know the DVX's business, do you? What if I told you last week I gave the order for a man to be killed because he was trying to defect to the WSB."

"I would say you are despicable."

"What if I also told you he had murdered two prostitutes that he had found at a local bar and left their battered bodies in a field to be picked over by carrion. What if I told you he had bribed the law enforcement and would face no punishment for his crime? Would you still call his fate despicable or would you call it justice."

"You are trying to tell me that what you do is justice?" she scoffed derisively.

"I'm trying to tell you that you do not know the full story of what the DVX does for in the world. And I am betting that you are curious to know more. "

"The information you give me. What is the price?"

"Just that you and I will get a chance to know each other better. And from time to time you will help me with matters that need attending to,"

"You want me to be traitor to the WSB. To betray my organization, but I won't!"

"Before you make any lofty statements about honor and loyalty, why don't you wait and see what I will ask of you. You might find it doesn't go against your sensibilities, and besides, you might find it lucrative. Imagine moving towards your independence at thrice the pace you are at now. And above all, think of the thrill of living on the knife's edge. I will send for your car, and you will hear from me in the coming days. Take time to consider my offer carefully; that is all I ask."

Anna was petrified with fear when Faison drew close to her, reached around to encircle her waist with his arm, and with the other, he tilted her chin upward to take a look at her face. The look in his eyes left her cold. There was a ruthlessness that she could detect in there depths. Something about the way he looked at her both fascinated and repulsed her at the same time. She resisted the urge to pull away and pushed her feelings as far down as she could manage and then fled the villa as soon as she possibly could.

Night had settled over Florence; the moon was visible in the sky, the streets were illuminated by lights from the surrounding buildings when Anna arrived at the apartment that she and Sean were sharing on this mission. She was exhausted, and her emotions frayed to shreds. Anna's eyes surveyed her surroundings, and she stopped to pull one of her high heels off while she leaned against the door. On the car ride back, she had been turning the day's events over and over in her mind and working hard to keep her panic in check. She didn't know how Sean would react once he knew that Faison was aware of her real identity, but she was steeling herself for him to fly into a rage. He was not used to being outmaneuvered, and learning he had been was bound to be an unpleasant thing to witness.

Her WSB training was meant to help keep her feelings in check, but everything was so fraught it was near impossible to get a grip on them. All she wanted was to share what she had learned with him as soon as possible, and she began calling his name. A quick circuit of the rooms showed his absence. On her dressing table, she found a note.

_Out to gather intelligence. Don't wait up. -S_

"Great. What's her name?" Anna muttered under her breath. She picked up the note and crumpled it in her hands and threw it into the fireplace. The room was cold, so she lit a fire and then walked over to the beverage cart and poured herself a large glass of cognac, drained it, wiped her mouth, and poured another. She paced back and forth in front of the fire, agitated and nervously chewing on the side of her mouth, as she had a habit of doing when she was anxious.

She paused to look into the fire when something caught her eye. It was a piece of paper, scorched and blackened in the corner of the firebox. Intrigued, she reached her hand into the flames and retrieved it. Sean must have been sent some new orders from the WSB -orders he didn't intend to share with her. She smiled wryly as one of his lessons echoed in her mind. _Never waste an opportunity to gain intel that was meant for someone else._ She set her glass down and scrutinized the paper in her hand. The beginning of the message was too far gone to decipher, but she could just make out the ending when she held it towards the light.

_MISSION SUCCESS CRITICAL. Timetable firm, no deviation. Success is your agent's only viable exit. If the cover is compromised, initiate Blackbox Protocol IMMEDIATELY AND PERSONALLY_. Send status updates and destroy communication.

Anna dropped the paper as if she had been bitten, and she could feel the blood drain from her face.

Blackbox Protocol.

There was no mistaking what this was and why Sean had burned it. It was an execution order for her. If the WSB knew that Faison was aware of her real identity, then she would be eliminated -full stop. They would erase her as if she had never existed, and Sean would be responsible for carrying out the order. And she had no doubt that he was capable of following through. She knew he would feel conflicted, saddened, but he would do it; there was no doubt. He would make it as painless as possible, she was sure. She had trusted him, but then another lesson came to mind; _Rule #15 "If you can trust an agent, then they must not be very good._" And Sean Donely was good; he was the best. Perhaps in his own way, he had been trying to warn her not to get too close or too comfortable. What was to be done? Flee and try to outrun the WSB?

_Knock Knock Knock_.

The sound made her jump. She took a minute to compose herself, and then she opened the door to find a valet with a tea cart. She was puzzled since she hadn't ordered anything_. _She looked at the cart, and there, in a bud vase, was a single white rose and a box of handmade confections. She retrieved her cognac hoping it would calm her nerves. Then she stopped for a minute. She had a hunch. She pulled up the white cloth that covered the cart. Anna ran her fingers deftly on the underside of the table until she felt the edges of an envelope. She retrieved it. It was blank on the outside except for a pen and ink drawing of a rose in the right-hand corner. Her hands shook as she opened it.

_White Rose:_

_I enjoyed our conversation today. I hope it will be the first of many. Please consider my proposal. _

_Black Thorn _

She knew who the author was. The White Rose- she wanted to wretch when she thought of Cesar Falcon selecting this code name for her. Her mind raced through scenario after scenario as to desperately tried to think her way out of her conundrum. After going over the options, she realized there was nothing to be done. She would have to accept the Faison's offer to work with him and become a traitor to the WSB. She would be a double agent. And God willing, she would soon be in a position to gain her independence and have no need for anyone ever again.

She tossed the letter and envelope into the fire. She looked at the flames and willed them to grow stronger and leap higher. Anna sat in an armchair with a glass of cognac in hand before the fireplace. She raised the glass in the air.

"To deception," she whispered.

Anna drank the entire glass before hurtling it at the granite fireplace. It shattered in a thousand pieces.

"Anna? What the hell are you doing?" Sean had entered the room without her notice.

"Celebrating my success. Where have you been?" She asked bitterly.

"Watch your tone." he warned, " And considering you report to me, Anna, I don't think it is any of your business." His nose twitched at the scent of cognac. "How many glasses have you had?"

"I don't think it's any of your business." She mimicked back to him. He walked over and looked at the mostly empty decanter and back at her. She tried to stand, but the room swam, and she was forced to sit back down.

"I think the cognac has hit you hard." Sean walked over, took her by the hand, and walked her over to her bedroom door. "I think it's time for you to sleep this off, and I will have my famous hangover cure ready for you in the morning. We can talk about the mission tomorrow."

Anna wrenched her hand away sharply and worked to keep her balance at the same time.

"We can damned-well talk about it now! He has invited me to meet with him frequently. I was able to get this from him." She handed him the notebook that held the informant's information that Faison had given her. As predicted, Sean was ecstatic.

"Wonderful! This is just the kind of thing we needed. You did marvelously!"

"What if he grows suspicious..."

"Don't worry.", he winked at her " You've got me, kid. I've got your back. You play your part as well as you have today, and everything will turn out fine. You will write to him tomorrow and arrange the next meeting. In the meantime, we will put you on clerical duties, so you can be available to see him when needed."

"What! No! You can't do that! A desk job?! You might as well kill me because that's what it feels like you are doing by suggesting that. I refuse to sit around and wait for _him_ to summon me! I want to work."

"Alright, calm down! I will remind you that meeting with him _is_ work. Anna, I can't have you embedded in solo missions and then extract you at a moment's notice for this operation. I understand your feelings. Listen, we will make your arrangements with Faison, and then we will look at our options. If you are going to keep working, we will need to make sure that you have more flexibility to come and go as needed. What this means Anna is that you are going to have to learn to work with a team- you heard me a TEAM. And no more arguments tonight, I've had my fill. Now, get to bed!"

This was how the course of her life changed. The events of that day had led to more pain and suffering than she realized a human being could survive. Knowing Cesar Faison was dead always gave her cold comfort, but that was shattered when re-entered her life and brought her past with him.

She thought of the two men, Sean Donely and Cesar Faison. One was her greatest friend and the other her greatest enemy. She feared that Robert was right, that Sean, a man they trusted with their lives, was being dishonest. What was Sean's connection to Faison? What was he hiding? And what would it cost them this time?

She was afraid the Devil had come to collect his due.


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm clock on the bedside table began to announce that seven o'clock had arrived harshly. There was no need because the woman lying in bed had been awake for hours. Anna was wide awake. It was to be expected after the shock of seeing Faison. At least that's what she told herself when the nightmares and memories wouldn't let her rest. Sleep was becoming more and more elusive, and the sound of the bedsprings shifting under the weight of her restlessness made her feel distressingly alone. She thought of the last time that she slept next to a warm body. She wished she could bury her head into a comforting shoulder and feel strong arms hold her. Anna brought a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. She considered calling in sick. It was a tempting thought, but she shook it off as she made her way to the bathroom. She had already spent too much time alone in her own thoughts. She needed another opportunity to talk this over with Sean. He seemed just as shocked as she that Faison was walking the earth instead of in hell where he belonged.

Anna began her morning routine like clockwork. She showered, brushed her teeth, arranged her hair. She pulled on a drab sweater, and black slacks then stood in front of her vanity mirror. As she put on earrings, she gave herself one last appraising look. She was put together enough, as she usually was, save for the dark circles under her eyes. She frowned as she looked at her reflection. Her memories of her time as a double-agent had faded in and out over the years, but now they crowded in, and she swore she could see the guilt in her own eyes. How could Robin miss it? One more reason to be out of the house looking for a distraction.

"You're reformed," she told her reflection firmly. "You aren't that person anymore. You get all the challenge and satisfaction you need by righting the wrongs of your past through helping others. People _can_ change." She raised an eyebrow at the last part. She could hear Faison taunting her in her head, telling her that a leopard should stop trying to change its spots and instead focus on being the predator that it was meant to be.

She shook her head. The White Rose was dead, but Anna Devane was alive and well.

At least that is what she told herself. It was a nice idea, but the real truth was that Anna Devane was alive, but she wasn't well. Anna was honest enough with herself to admit that she had been restless even before Fasion's return. A malaise enveloped her. She hadn't been well since Vienna-

With those intrusive thoughts pushed out of her mind for the moment, Anna grabbed her coat and bolted the cup of coffee that Olin pressed insistently into her hand before she made her way to the office. The drive was a blur, and she ignored her usual routine, instead of taking a long and circuitous route. It was as if all of her survival training was subconsciously overriding everything else. When she pulled up to the front of the modest office building, she looked at every car parked on the street with trepidation and made sure she gave them a wide berth while trying not to fall into paranoia.

She climbed the stairs and as she walked down the hallway and could hear a voice from the open door of the office that was headquarters of the Donely & Devane PI firm.

"- I need information, and I expect you to get it to me soon. Do you understand?" It was a man's voice, older with that distinctly intimidating tone that Sean reserved for those who he was disappointed in. Anna's brow furrowed as she listened and tried to place who he might be talking to.

When Anna finally stepped through the door, she was confronted by the sight of dozens of files scattered across every surface. The file drawers were half-open, showing that their contents had been plundered without time taken to close them up again. For a moment, Anna thought the office had been ransacked, but one look at Sean's body language told her he was the culprit.

"Good morning Sean." He started at the sound of his name and slammed the phone onto its cradle. He met her questioning eyes and shook his head sheepishly.

"Morning, Anna," was all he could manage before he started shuffling papers and placing them back into their sleeves.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked as casually as she could manage. She tossed and now empty paper coffee cup into the waste bin by the door and waited for an answer. She didn't feel confident that any answer he would give her would be the truth, and it hurt. After all that they had been through, all the trust that they had rebuilt; the fact that she was unsure of him brought her terrible pain.

"It's not important."

"It seemed important."

"What's with the interrogation Anna? I'm finding out what I can about our friend Faison and his unanticipated rise from the grave."

"That's rich coming from the man who made me into what I am. And now I have to keep this from Robert. I hate lying to him, Sean!"

"I don't enjoy lying either Anna, but do you want to be responsible for what he might do? What Faison might do to him?"

"Faison already destroyed our lives once. I won't let him do it again."

"I'm sorry, Anna."

Anna's eye flashed a mix of annoyance and real anger. She mustered as much bravado as she dared. "I don't want your pity. It's in the past. It won't change, so I don't need to think about it." She sat down hard in her chair, and her eyes shot daggers at Sean, and he felt each one in his heart but didn't let it show. He instead looked directly at her, knowing that she would break the gaze before he would.

"Too painful?" he asked pointedly.

She flushed, and Anna shifted in her seat, contemplating the question. Something about the way he looked at her seemed to calm her. He always had that effect. As much as she hated to admit it, he could calm her down with a look. It was almost Pavlovian.

"No. Not anymore," she admitted quietly. "But sometimes the what-ifs still keep me awake at night. What if my parents hadn't died? What if I had stayed in England? What if Robert had known about my pregnancy? Many things would have been different."

"True. Who knows, maybe you would still be a family."

"I don't see that being the case. The WSB ensured that wasn't possible."

"Why not?"

The rise of her eyebrow made Sean look away. "Why did you listen to me, Anna?"

"It was my job. You told me to trust you."

"I did appreciate that you have the..moral flexibility to accomplish any task I put to you."

"Morals are never very thrilling, but an adventure is." Anna said with a smile, "Admit it. You liked sending me unarmed into the dragon's den."

"You were far from unarmed. You had the armor already. You just needed some additional weapons training," chuckled Sean.

"I've been thinking a lot about the past."

"What for Anna? I always told you that there is no sense in looking backward if you can't change a thing about it."

"It must be nice to be able to ignore the past. To be so resolute that you have no regrets. How do you do it, Sean?"

"Yes, Anna, I do have regrets."

"Like what? If you don't mind me asking."

"Like Moscow," he said gently.

Anna froze and felt the panic rise because she knew what he was referring to. She knew, but then tried to sound nonchalant. "Moscow? I've been there so many times, Sean. You would have to be more specific." She tossed her head haughtily and focused on clearing her desk of papers.

"You know what mission I'm talking about," he said, either not noticing her reaction or ignoring it.

Anna's hands gripped the edge of her desk, and she closed her eyes as memories were unlocked.

_She remembered. _

She remembered how her hands shook uncontrollably as she tried in desperation to open the window sash. She had to tug on it repeatedly until suddenly it came loose, and the glass swung open, letting the wind and blinding rain stream into the upstairs room. She remembered how she crawled out onto the ledge, trying to get her nerves under control, but the tears came like a hot flood mixing with the cold rain on her cheeks.

She shimmied down the drainpipe that was set into the wall of the pre-war era building. Once she reached the ground, she wrapped her arms tightly about her and hurried down the street. Her feet caught on the cobblestones, and she fell into slick, icy mud. She could hear a commotion behind her coming from the hotel she had exited. A scream was followed by shouting, and she knew she needed to get the hell away as fast as she could. She relied on her memory to get her back. Right, left, left then right again. Sean had drilled it into her so she could know the streets by dark as well as day. Soon a tall brick building loomed in front of her, and she could see light streaming cheerily from the windows. It was the WSB safehouse that Sean had brought her to so they could plan their mission.

She hurried up the steps and rapped on the door they way Sean had taught her. The door opened immediately, and she fairly fell through the entryway. Sean grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She pulled the blond wig from her head and threw it on the ground. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness in the room, and she tried to smooth down the front of her dress, but she felt something sticky covering the front of her. She looked down to see that she was covered with blood. Blood streaked with mud. Her hands were stained red also.

Her exchange with Sean was a blur, only bits and pieces remained, but she remembered him shouting at her.

"Anna, what the hell happened!"

Words began to tumble out as her body began to shiver and shake. "I did it. I pulled the trigger, and I ... I hit the target. We did our ... our job. That's what we're supposed to do is ... isn't it? I did it; I did it, I did it..." At that moment, her ability to speak was taken away as sobs wracked her body. She sank down to the floor.

Sean kneeled down beside her and took her by the shoulders. Her lips were swollen, and her dress was torn. Sean's face went white.

"Did he hurt you?! Did he…" his voice trailed off.

"No! No, I hurt him first."

"How?"

"A knife. And a gun." Her face crumpled as the tears started again. She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

"Ok. Ok. Calm down. Let's get you cleaned up and then we need to leave as soon as possible. You did well. Do you hear me? The first time is always a shock. But there is no need to fall apart. Are you going to keep crying?"

In the back of her mind, a small defiant voice whispered,

_I am Anna Devane, and I don't cry. _

Then she took a deep breath and stood up. She wiped the tears leaving behind a red streak on her cheek. She swayed for a moment and then steadied herself, straightened her posture, and lifted her chin. At that moment, her training took over, and her emotions were soon hidden as if behind a veil. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress.

"I'm fine. I'm going to take a bath. Could you have some tea sent up?" She then smiled and bid Sean a goodnight before walking up the stairs and to her room. She remembered the look of trepidation in his eyes and something else that made her feel powerful at the moment- fear. He was uneasy as if he was afraid of her. She was glad of it.

_And like that, it was done. Her first assassination complete._

At the Academy, the trainees had often joked that an agent's first kill was like losing your virginity. Anna could not attest to the truth of this, primarily because she had killed Count Konstantin Katakazi in Moscow before she had lost her chastity. Before she met Robert...

Her hands clenched until she almost broke the pencil that was gripped in her hand. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Sean was looking at her with compassion that almost broke her heart.

"I regret what I made you do. Who I made you into. You were young, You should have been living your life, not taking the lives of others. My job was to turn you into a weapon. But it wasn't an exact science. I made mistakes and you paid. I'm sorry. I guess I thought of our work as a game except we made the rules. But that was an illusion, we all lost."

Her interest was piqued by the look of sadness in his eyes. A look she saw so rarely. "Why are you saying this, Sean? Is something wrong? Are you alright? Are you in danger?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Sometimes when your past doesn't catch up with you, your own memory does the job."

"I suppose that's true."

"Have you seen Robert lately?"

"No, he's been busy."

"Why are you avoiding each other?"

"We aren't avoiding each other!"

"That's a lie, Anna."

"Why do you think I'm avoiding him, Sean?" She stared at him until he shrugged his shoulders.

"The less he knows right now, the better," he said in a soothing tone. One, she knew well.

Anna tapped her pencil against her chin before she took to chewing on the edge of the "I don't like this Sean. I am keeping him in the dark. Robert's trust in me has been hard-earned. I don't want to lose it."

"Sometimes, you have to keep things from people you love because it is the best thing for them."

"I wish I could kill Faison."

"You can't. You know the code."

"The Donely code. Don't kill unless it saves the life of a friend. Wasn't that it? You gave the code to us, but you never kept it yourself..." she said under her breath. Florence was in her mind. Knowing that Sean had been told to kill her if her cover had been compromised thirteen years ago had haunted her for years, and she wanted to know, she _needed_ to know if he would have gone through with it. Would he have killed her if the WSB ordered? How far would he go if directed? How far would he go on his own?

Sean stood up and faced her toe to toe. He towered over her, but it didn't matter, Anna Devane always filled the room. "What are you talking about? Are you insinuating something, Anna?"

Anna looked at him and recognized the same look she saw in Moscow, and it surprised her. Sean was afraid. He thought she was fishing for information. Her curiosity raged, but she kept it in check.

"Never mind, Sean. It doesn't matter."


	3. Chapter 3

It was the middle of the night, quiet and peaceful in the hotel room, but Robert Scorpio lay in bed and stared at the ceiling overhead. A woman lay sleeping next to him, sheets twisted around her as she curled next to him. He lay as still as he possibly could and was relieved with the fingers that had been stroking his chest stilled, and he felt the soft inhale and exhale of peaceful breathing under the mass of golden curls on his shoulder. She was tired from a long day of travel, sight-seeing, and passion. Her chest heaved in time with her breathing, perfectly synched with his as he watched her. Kate was asleep.

Thank god.

He carefully pulled away, trying not to disturb her. He needed a break from making small talk with her trying his best to be intentional in his affection, even when he would rather spend time in his thoughts. He felt guilty for a brief instant before the feeling faded and was replaced with a contemplation of his state of affairs. Kate, after all, was the only one that wasn't hiding anything from him at the moment. But Kate had said little to interest him.

He wanted to know what Anna was up to, what she was concealing and why.

The journey to Washington had been quiet, introspective. Tense. He had invited Katherine along because...well, he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was just because he just didn't want to be alone. But the truth of the matter was that her presence couldn't fill the void. The source of his emptiness was Anna's refusal to confide in him. He knew she was hiding something. He was used to sharing her secrets. In fact, knowing the ins and outs of her life more intimately than any other person was a source of satisfying pride. And now...she felt so distant. It seemed strange to even for someone as good at subterfuge as Anna to insist that she was not involved in the concealment of Casey Rogers, a known fugitive. No matter what repulsion he might feel for what she was doing, he would help her. She had to know that! He was her friend! And she was so much more than his friend.

Wasn't it telling that it took a dangerous caper like their Stille Nacht in Vienna for them to put all of their past hurts aside for a moment? To be one hundred percent honest, open, and compassionate towards each other, beneath the umbrella of their mission, without fear or regret.

Which is perhaps why Anna's refusal to tell him the truth was all the more galling.

Robert passed a hand over his face and pulled on a robe to shield himself from the chill in the air then stood at the window to look out at the city lights as they spread over the shifting water of the Patomac River like an artificial Borealis.

_Damn her! What was she thinking?_

Their trust was so hard-won that Anna's withdrawal from his confidence made it feel like he was losing her all over again. The pain of it was unbearable, and Katherine's sweet caresses could not heal the wound, no matter how much he tried to let her. And bless her heart, she tried and tried. Anna filled his thoughts. The set of her jaw and the toss of her head when she told him she wasn't hiding a fugitive, that he was ridiculous. As if she didn't know he could read her like the phonebook.

_What if she was in trouble? In danger? What would keep her from confiding in him? How dangerous was it?_

A mixture of anger and panic filled him until he thought he might need to retch.

To distract himself from the worry, he took up a worn notebook, filled with his spidery scrawl. He turned to a blank page, and his pen hovered over the page in trepidation before he started to write out his questions and followed each one with what little information he had. Was Sean Donely the key? What role did he play? Why had he taken that classified file? The frustrating thing was that Robert couldn't even be certain that Anna's secret and Sean's were connected.

"Robert?" a sleepy voice called his name, and he looked toward the source from his chair.

"Don't worry. I'm here." He said softly. "Go back to sleep."

"Come back to bed."

"I will in a moment. I promise."

Robert sat back in the chair, watching for signs that Kate had resumed her slumber. He knew one thing for certain. He needed to get back to Port Charles as soon as he could. And he also knew that he needed to know more about the stranger on Spoon Island and what his business was. His gut was telling him he needed to take a boat trip to Wyndemere and introduce himself to the mysterious owner of that hinky haunted mansion...and sooner rather than later.

* * *

Faison stood there, eyes watching the movement of the water steadily. The dark line of Port Charles was on the horizon. A stream of smoke escaped from his mouth, sending a dark hazy cloud to obscure the deep orange and pink sunset that glowed over Spoon Island. The steady stream of gray from his cigarillo drifted and melted into the sky. His fingers twitched, and a dusting of ash floated to the ground.

She was so close, his Anna.

Knowing that they were in proximity to one another did not fully prepare him for the reality of her. _She_ was standing there, holding a gun and fire in her eyes. Her beauty and grace were undiminished with her long dark hair tied back from her angry face. The words she spat at him didn't matter, all that mattered was that fate had brought them back together.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts of her that he didn't notice someone join him. Desiree smiled, her hand raised. "Mind if I join you?"

Faison grunted in derision. He didn't want anyone intruding on his memories.

I told you to leave and go to the Port Charles Hotel. You know how I hate defiance."

Desiree ignored his outburst and put a smile on her face. Into his hand, she placed a crystal glass, scotch on the rocks.

"You were just speaking rashly. Worrying for no reason. And look now, you are calm."

He sipped his drink but avoided looking at her. He wanted his mind's eye to see Anna Devane and no other. A small smile played out on his lips, removing the cigarillo to take another gulp of scotch. It burned his throat, warming it down to his soul just as the sight of her had done.

Desiree draped herself on his shoulder, but he shook her off and walked a few paces away. She worked to keep her disappointment in check but was unable to hold her jealousy at bay. "I don't understand your interest in her. It's clear she's not interested in renewing your acquaintance. Why waste your time with someone who doesn't appreciate you?"

Suddenly he felt rage flow through him.

"You have no idea what you are talking about. You have no idea because you have no idea what it's like to meet your soul's twin. You know nothing of that kind of love."

Once again, he was consumed by something he couldn't possess. Becoming P.K. Sinclair and pouring his memory and love into bringing Davnee to life on the page now was a pale and empty substitute for the real Anna Devane. It would never satisfy him again now that she was back in his life.

The bitterness flowed through his veins, his heart pumping the rancor through him. _She should never have left him to begin with! _No, no- he wasn't angry with her; it wasn't her fault. He was the one that had decided to retire from the world after all. She thought he was dead; it was to be expected that she would be in shock to see him again.

His acrimony dimmed for only a brief moment until it flared again at the thought of who was really to blame for their separation.

_Robert Scorpio. _

He had taken her from him and abandoned her just as quickly. She had given herself to him body and soul and bound herself to him, and he left her burned and scarred as if she was nothing. Pearls before swine as they say. It had been a delicate time in his own disappearing act, or he would have come to collect her. He should have. She would have been brokenhearted and in need of a friend to turn to. And she had been with child.

God only knew what had become of the Anna Devane he had shaped and molded in the intervening years. He had tried not to think of it- he really did. Dead or alive, he had tried not to anticipate the day Anna would return. All these years- she had been living without him, pretending to a normal person with an ordinary job and an ordinary life until she was a mere wisp of the woman he had known. And then she stood in his presence and came alive. She was wrong, saying she wanted him to stay dead. She hadn't even realized she was doing it- that she was waiting for him.

Now was the moment. She had materialized and torn open old wounds afresh. He wanted her to look him in the eye and then feel the need to look away in shame for abandoning him for a man who didn't love her enough to stay. He imagined her pleading for forgiveness for leaving him. He let his dark imagination unfurl, and his thin lips curled into a smile as he imagined her clutching the lifeless body of Robert Scorpio, covered in blood and looking up at himself, with a murderous passion that made his heart beat faster.

The idea of taking her into his influence in such a state, and beginning the painstaking task of taming her again was intoxicating. Faison's smile grew wider; he could not wait to turn that spark of life into an endless fire. His dark daydream was interrupted by a sudden sound, so out of place, it took him a moment to distinguish its origins.

A doorbell.

He noted the unexpected interference in the back of his mind and continued to think about Anna, possessing her, his string of thoughts otherwise unbroken. It was not his place to tend to the door. It was his house, after all. He hired people for that.

Desiree stared at him as he proceeded to drink his scotch, her eyes striving to betray no concern, even though she must have heard the bell as well. This was the latest time this week that he was interrupted in any way, and Faison was certain that no other person was expected. The bell sounded again, and this time the faintest twitch of bother passed over Faison's lips. She noticed, but she made no attempt to leave him and answer the door.

"Are you expecting someone?" Desiree asked in a lackadaisical manner to address the troublesome ring.

"No," Faison replied simply, his face once again unmoved, "Why are you still standing there?"

"Jaques will get the door."

Faison resumed smoking his cigarillo, but the insistent guest remained undiscouraged; the bell rang for the third time, the sound unnecessary long as the person purposely held the button down. How rude.

This time the displeasure was clearly visible on Desiree's face, but she was still reluctant to leave. Whether it is because she did not want to leave him alone to his thoughts, her need to be present in Cesar's life a priority, or that she does not want to be relegated to the role of the assistant is unclear. In his heart, Faison just hopes she will leave.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she finally made up her mind and stood up, "I will be back shortly."

"Of course, please, take your time," he made sure his voice reassured her at once, his head turned to watch her walk away, scrutinizing her petite figure, her dark locks swooshing against the silk on her blouse, the firmer than usual click of her heels further indicating her irritation. Where he once found her pleasing, all he could see now was her deficits. This was the effect that Anna Devane had. She drained the life from other women.

After she disappeared behind the door, and the sound of steps grew fainter, Faison's gaze returned to its previous spot, focusing on an empty chair. The setting sun casts its last charm, elongating the shadows on the terrace as if luring out his memories. This was the same time when the light reflected against Anna's hair as she looked at the Seine, making it gleam in all its enticing allure. Cesar Faison frowned suddenly, disheartened by the thought of her. How had she been separated from him for so long? He was certain that he was in her thoughts as much as she was in his.

The distant clink of a door being unlocked below the terrace where he stood pulled his mind away from his contemplation. The sound that came next made Faison stand up straighter: a man's voice. He frowned almost instinctively. Desiree's voice follows, sounding harsh even from such distance. It was too far for him to distinguish words, but he aspires to do so; nonetheless, his muscles tensed in unspecified anticipation.

All of a sudden, a man's voice became louder as if raised in anger; Faison's head tilted aside as he listened more intensely, ears alerted. Whatever Desiree's response was, her tone was agitated. The same could be said about the mysterious guest. His voice turned increasingly louder; the next words were clearly audible even from such a distance.

Faison stood up at once and moved down the stairs to the front door. He walked down the steps and stopped when two figures came into view, Desiree's small figure with her back turned to him and the owner of the loud voice, a tall, dark-haired man in his early thirties, standing in front of her. Faison recognized him as one of the island's security details.

"What is going on?!" The level of his voice brought the conversation to a halt. Desiree turned and looked at him with steel in her eyes.

"It's _her."_ She said disdainfully. "She's here. On the island."


	4. Chapter 4

When Anna arrived on Spoon Island, Casey, in tow, she never anticipated how her past and present would collide that night. She barely had time to collect her wits before she experienced a cold chill as the master of the island found them and ushered them with calculating politeness into the house. And she didn't think that she would be followed.

Although she should have anticipated it.

And this is how she found herself in the middle of a nightmare. The beautiful sunset had turned into a lovely lavender and purple evening and then into a dark velvet night over Wyndemere. Usually, after dark, it was somber and grim, with a dim hint of light in one or two windows. But now it blazed brilliantly, even the wings on either side being lit up as if to signal to the world beyond the importance of the night's occasion. Even the gray veil of fog that crept up from the docks seemed to know that tonight was not the time for a visit and instead constrained itself to the rocky shoreline.

Up the flight of broad, shallow stone steps flanked by ancient-looking urns and open-mouth stone lions, that led to the massive front door were inside a confrontation took place; a conflict long fated. Three people stood in the shadow of an imposing staircase, feet set on the faded red carpet, each the embodiment of pure emotion: desperation, hostility, and malevolence. It was fitting that this rather gloomy old house would play host to the ghosts of old hatreds and heart-breaks, the airing of dark deeds that had never been dragged into the light and were still festering in the corners of the minds of those present. And she was left to make the introductions.

"_Robert, this is Cesar Faison."_

Anna stood looking at the two men as if caught in a ghastly dream. Seeing the two of them so close filled her with panic and left her with something of a sinister sensation in the region of her spine. Anna had woken in a frenzied state after dreaming up this very moment more times than she cared to recall. But there was no waking that could save her from seeing the man who meant everything to her facing the man she wished damned to hell.

All she could be grateful for was that the tense cabal had not ended in the injury or death for herself, Robert or Casey. A bargain had been struck, but Robert remained taut as a bowstring, and Anna avoided his eyes. All she could do was attend to Casey. If she could focus on him, then she could keep the Jinn that was her regrets and emotions safely in the bottle. Faison, for his part, was pleased to have the upper hand by playing host for the night. She could feel Robert's eyes following her as they were led to a quiet room. They were cold, hard, and clear as diamonds, but Anna was most grateful, once he had settled into his chair for the night, that he hadn't frozen himself to her completely; she thanked him for his restraint, and he listened to her words of thanks even if in a terse manner.

Silence settled down over the old house—an eerie, wistful, creeping silence that Anna felt unsettling. She concentrated on the sound of Casey's breathing and tried not to think of the dangerous man that lurked somewhere in the halls beyond. She closed her eyes and prayed that sleep would outrun the phantasms that chased after, and her mind would be clear of nightmares.

* * *

From his place on the wing-backed chair, he could hear the whispering and sighing of the fir trees. It was a beautiful night- clear, breezy frosty. He pulled his jacket around him and was grateful for the warm embers in the fireplace next to him. Casey Rogers, or whomever this person was, seemed to need sleep despite his supposed extraterrestrial provenance.

He ran his hand through his hair; his jacket slipped onto the arm of the lonesome seat. Robert sat still for a moment as sleep began to clear from his eyes. Something had woken him. A sound but he couldn't quite place. He listened closer, frowning in curiosity. Only the sound of breathing reached his ears, so he settled back and closed his eyes once more to try and chase the dreams that got away from him when he heard it again.

It was the sound of someone being sick.

He looked to the corner of the room where the ensuite bathroom door was. The light seeping through the door frame belied the presence of someone inside. His head immediately snapped to the place where Anna should be sleeping soundly but found nothing but empty blankets.

He found her huddled over the toilet, retching violently. It was horrifying, really. In all the years he had known Anna, even after Duke's death, he had never seen her in the state he found her in when he opened that door. Robert hurried to her side and smoothed her long hair away from her face, gathering the length of it into his hands. He tried not to panic as her regurgitation continued until her body had purged everything it had left in it. But the heaving was still unbroken even though nothing was left to expel. He recognized this; the body's response to fear, preparing for future crisis. Her body was locked into this stress response. Whatever physiological, psychological, and emotional strain she was under was far too much.

"Easy there…" was the only thing he could think to say when she had a brief moment of reprieve before her stomach betrayed her again. He continued to hold her hair, helpless to do more until eventually, she stopped. She curled up on the cool floor, panting and out of breath. He started to reach out to her, but she shrank from his touch.

"I'm fine, Robert," was her curt reply as she breathed heavily, her face was pale, and sweat covered her brow. Anna took a few more deep breaths once she was sure she was done.

"Like hell you are," he said harshly and immediately regretted his tone, but the fact was she had scared him, and he wouldn't take _I'm fine_ for an answer. Last night when he left her to sleep, she had been in control, and now he found her in pieces.

He checked himself and sighed an apology. He slowly eased towards her as one would approach a wounded and frightened lioness. He was grateful when she accepted his hand; Anna finally rose to her feet with his help and made it to the sink where she cupped her hands to catch the cool water, bringing them to her mouth to drink before she slipped down to the ground in a huddled fashion and broke down weeping. He made sure the door was closed and turned the lock. He hoped that no one was paying attention to the sound of her and tried to intrude on their cold, tiled sanctuary.

Robert had never heard her cry so, with dreadful, rending sobs, low and fierce, as if some agony in her soul were trying to tear itself out. He was used to seeing Anna cry in joy, sorrow, grief, and even in frustration. But he had never heard anyone cry like this. It gave him the same unpleasant sensation, which he felt one time when he had seen his grandfather, a stoic man of no emotion, cry.

"Anna...Anna. Luv…" He rubbed her back as her shoulders convulsed with dread and grief. Suddenly her tears stopped, and her face was pale and wan with dry and piteous eyes.

She seemed locked in the wretchedness of either her own making or from an external source. Most likely, both.

"I hate this. I hate this weakness in me. I hate that you have to see it."

"In the list of words I would use to describe Anna Devane, I would use stubborn, reckless, maybe infuriating with your bloody single-mindedness, but I would never, ever call you weak. I'm afraid I'd get injured if I ever tried" He smiled his broadest smile at her, desperate to draw her out. She rewarded him with a small one.

Robert suddenly became sober. "You told me you were in control of this situation. You should have come to me, Anna. You should have told me that he was alive, just like you should have told me he was gunning for me thirteen years ago. We are always better together."

"There is more to this story. You tried to tell me once why you made the choices that you did. I was a cold-hearted bastard and didn't listen to you. I know that part of your life is painful. But Anna, can you tell me? Can you tell me all about it? Who was this man to you?"

"It's not just about him. It's me, Robert. The problem is me." She looked into that steel-blue gaze arresting her attention. All she could divine within their depth was non-comprehension.

His questions made her pensive, an inward turn that showed a glimpse of a weary soul beneath that normally dazzling, confident exterior. Anna drew her knees up to her chest. She looked small and fragile, and somehow that scared Robert more than any of the countless dangerous situations he had faced. He noticed that she was trembling. What kind of person could have this effect on her, make the fearless afraid? It was as if she was too still too near something dark, terrible, and menacing, and even though he was now with her, the shadow of it was still clinging around her.

There was space next to her, so he carefully took a seat and looked at her. Her bangs had fallen to cover her eyes, so with a gentle sweep on his fingers, he pushed her hair back behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her forehead. She felt warm, so he stood up and grabbed a small face from under the sink and soaked it in cold water and folded it neatly. Once he had resumed his spot next to her, he gently pressed the wet cloth to her head and watched as her features softened. The silence stretched on between them as she struggled with where to even begin, but Robert waited. He sat, passing the cool cloth over her heated skin until she took a deep breath and started to talk.

"I never considered myself to be a novice when it came to sex, even before I experienced in the physical act itself. In the academy days, we were taught to exploit vulnerabilities, and there was nothing more vulnerable than an aroused man." She looked at him to see if he was shocked by her words. Robert swallowed a response and instead just nodded. It was not his place to comment on the sexual politics of the WSB's training for female agents or male agents for that matter. Glasshouses and stones as they say.

"I was taught to use my body, intelligence, and allure as bait. And time after time, I found that no matter who the mark was, his cleverness, training, character, and patriotism were no defense against words I whispered into his ear or my hand on his belt."

Anna was silent for a moment, in the early days, that was usually all that was needed. She would let a mark's clumsy hands paw at her body, kiss her neck and cup her ass, followed by a glass of champagne doctored with a dose of Rohypnol, and then she would straighten her skirt, fix her lipstick and take away with her whatever secrets she was sent to retrieve. In her wake, she left too many dramas, too many rumpled bedsheets, rattled spouses, shattered reputations, and ruined lives.

"And I felt powerful." She admitted. Intelligence work and seduction went hand and hand, and she grew prideful of the fact that men always thought her more experienced than she was.

She arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Even you, the woman-wise Robert Scorpio, had no idea that you held a virgin in your arms, did you?" Her voice was tauntingly soft, and she looked at him under half-lidded eyes, a coy smile on her lips. Her effect on him was instantaneous. She still did this to him- sent his head spinning like a broken compass. Robert raised his eyebrows at her and then ducked his head sheepishly. Anna was certain she saw him blush. Her face brightened for a lightning-quick second, and then the storm clouds settled over her brow again.

"But my drive to survive in the world of espionage also made me practical. Of course, I would choose life over maidenhead if an op ever went south. There were times I had to use quick thinking to get out of a tight spot..." It was true. There had been some close calls, that she had been forced to settle with her mouth and hands while she tried to ignore the gun placed to her head. There was no need to tell him that.

"You see, I had promised myself that I would not...give myself away for anything less than...love - if it could be helped." Robert started at her words, and Anna felt the need to explain herself further. She leaned forward and continued earnestly. "It wasn't for some old fashion notion of purity or the sacredness of female chastity; I had no use for that sort of nonsense. It was to...I don't know...maybe keep a part of myself that wasn't owned by the WSB. I was able to have some control in an organization that controlled me." She looked at him searchingly.

"I think I understand," Robert responded in all seriousness.

She could see a far off look in Robert's eyes, and she knew his mind was with her thinking of that first night together in France. She thought of him then; he was still the same proud, handsome, and unrelenting man he was the say they met. It would never cease to amaze Anna how warm his touch was when they danced together on that caper; he felt more alive than anyone she has ever met. She had opened her heart to him, and the warmth that pooled in her belly when she kissed him opened everything else. With Robert, there was pleasure, but it was more than that; there was an intimacy and freedom that set her body and mind aflame. The way he kissed her as if he couldn't, he couldn't bear to be disconnected from her in any way was intoxicating. After their first time together, she felt strangely fragile, her body no longer a weapon of espionage, her mask ripped off so completely, it made her want to hide how vulnerable she felt. She remembered a maxim from her training in seduction. Someday, the only thing you may have to offer is yourself. Make sure you offer it for the right reasons. And she had done it; she had decided to give herself over to a man on her own terms, she had retained control of herself. No one had taken it from her. Suddenly the only adventure she wanted was to be his wife, have a home, a sun-soaked villa, raise children in the open air, and sunshine. Even after all the pain that would follow, she never regretted loving him. Robert's arms had felt like a refuge, and as soon as she woke up to the muffled sound of bells on the harbor, feeling snug and cozy, she knew she had made the right decision.

She looked at him again. "As for the morality of it? Sean told me as long as there were secrets in the world, there would always be someone to seduce them out. We had to be first. That was part of Sean's plan. He knew I would be irresistible to Faison. And I played my part well. I had to. If my cover had been blown, I would have been eliminated by the WSB. I found the kill order."

"Does he know that?" Robert was wary. If this were any other time, he wouldn't have believed that Sean would allow something like that to happen. But now cards were stacked in such a way any surprise he had at the notion of Sean being untruthful had been snuffed out.

Anna's face took on a green tinge, and for a moment, Robert thought she might be sick again; but fortunately, the moment passed.

"I've never asked him because I didn't want to know the answer."

"I think we both know the answer." He didn't need to say more. The Swede, his fate, and the part they played in his death were always haunting their thoughts.

"You're right. But to hear Sean say it out loud Robert…? I don't think I could bear it. And besides I...I have to believe in Sean and that he wouldn't hurt me or us, not then and not now. And never forget I was a traitor, Robert. Death probably wonders how I have avoided him as long as I have."

"What work did you do for Faison?"

"It was easy to manage. I was supposed to collect actionable intel from him and deliver it to the WSB. I would accept missions from him.. I tried to keep my distance, but Cesar insisted that we work together. There was no way to avoid it, so I would accompany him on ops, but the information I relayed back was only what he wanted them to know and what was beneficial to his own standing in the DVX. And he required his own pound of flesh. I had to give him Bureau information in return. Cairo, Monte Carlo, Panama City; we always traveled in style, and it fed my appetite for adventure. "

Her voice quivered with an uncontrollable spasm of pain, but her misty, mournful brown eyes did not swerve from his.

"Remember my WSB Arcana results? Perspicacious - In order to fight evil, you have to understand it. You may not like it, but I can put myself in the villain's shoes and understand him. I have the ability to understand the mind of the enemy; understand his motivations for the choices he made. Sean warned me that I could be vulnerable to rationalization, empathizing when I shouldn't. And Sean would know better than anyone. He made me his protege because I was like him. I'm like Sean Donely, the man who was the pride of his agency and defender of the free world. The same man would order the death of his agent, a friend, if it served the cause. If he can do that, what else could he do? And don't you see? I'm asking that question to understand myself. What am I capable of? Faison always said I was complimenting him; souls who could conquer the world together. And what is Faison, Robert?"

"From the look of it, a psychotic megalomaniac bent on world domination. But what does that have to do with you? Why are you going backward, Anna? It's the past. It's water under the bridge, luv. Don't do this to yourself. You are a good person. You were always good.

"Was I? What I hate about that time is how much I enjoyed it. The money was incredible, but the adrenaline rush was even better. What if you hadn't come along? Would I have kept going with this life? Become the monster he thinks I can be? Victor Jerome thought I had it in me to run his crime organization, what do these power-hungry, evil men see in me?"

Robert's mouth went dry, and the words would not come. Her questions lingered unanswered. How did these opportunities come to her?

"Did you have a favorite book as a child Robert? One that you would read over and over?"

Her abrupt change of subject surprised him, and he shrugged. I had a copy of Through the Looking-Glass that I read until it fell apart. I dreamt of being Alice, crawling through the mirror, and leaving my ordinary life behind. The WSB was my looking-glass. But Robert- Robert, don't you understand? I don't know if I fell _out_ or fell _in_."

The desperation in her voice chilled him. She was almost frantic. "Anna you aren't making any sense at all. What are you talking about?"

"When Alice fell into the looking-glass, she found that just like a reflection, everything in that world was reversed, she found a strange parallel to her own. But Alice never lost sight of herself through the whole adventure; she always knew what her true nature was. I don't, Robert! I don't! Who am I really?!"

Robert began to work out her meaning. She was asking who she was at her core; as her truest self. Was she a patriot or traitor, an angel or a devil? Who was the real Anna Devane? The Anna he knew was always sure of herself and her motives; he hadn't seen this much doubt since before Bay C. Sitting forward, he placed his hand over hers and gave her his full attention. His voice was soft, eyes delving into her as if he wanted to lose himself there. He would offer absolution if she only would accept it.

"Luv, when I left you in that hospital room after the accident and walked out, you could have gone back to the DVX, but you didn't. You didn't go further up and further in, instead went your own way. You pulled yourself up and soldiered on."

Robert stopped for a moment and contemplated his next words carefully. "Are you tempted to go back to who you were back then? Does Faison make you feel like you miss that life?" he asked quietly.

"No. Not for a minute." She looked up her eyes wide.

"There then! See Anna; you can love honestly."

"I was lucky to meet you when I did."

"I did not turn you around. I gave you an out. A way to get out of a life you no longer wanted to live. Why do you continue to flagellate yourself for things that we have already put behind us."

"I'm thinking of Robin. If Robin were to ever know my past and ask why I did It, I need to be able to explain it to her. And first, I have to explain it to myself. And I need to know that I have a shield against Faison now and always. I need to know my weaknesses, so he can't exploit them."

Robert could not handle her being this hard on herself. The guilt he felt for walking out on her all those years ago only grew exponentially with each word she uttered. Perhaps he needed to get his own deep thinking going to investigate how an honorable man was able to compromise himself. But he won't because - he's not interested in self-accusations.

And because the answer is easy - _Anna Devane._

His gaze shifted to look over her. She had recovered some of her color, and her lips were pink rather than pale. He hoped that his certainty in her inherent goodness would be something she could draw assurance from. He still needed her to know that her debt no longer needed to be collected. His eyes lingered on her in the dim light, taking in every detail of her stoic refinement and loveliness, and with difficulty, he choked back the tears that were forming behind his eyelids as he witnessed her distress.

"You've paid too much, luv." was all he could think to say, but he hoped his voice was soothing.

She shook her head and took in a breath as if she felt like she was foolish, and Robert didn't know what to do. He wanted to embrace her or place a hand on her shoulder, but instead, he simply took her hand in his. She laughed a little, cracked by the weight of her emotions, in an attempt to brush off any sympathy. Even so, she squeezed his hand back. She seemed to gain enough strength to look him in the eye, and she gave him her first genuine smile of the night. He answered hers with one of his own. That expression of his was like the sun, warming her and driving the chill out of her heart. She couldn't help but smile back at his never-ending well of optimism and his belief in her. She leaned into his arms, and he folded her to himself, leaning his cheek against the crown of her head.

"Thank god you are nothing like him, Robert," Anna said with relief as she buried her face in his neck. Robert shifted uncomfortably before wrapping his arms around her. He kept his thoughts to himself since the truth would only undo all the work he had put in to reassure her, but there was only one thing about Faison that he understood completely.

_Anna Devane was worth killing for._


End file.
